


Rebirth

by itsmoonpeaches



Series: Legacy [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 100 Year War (Avatar TV), Aang is a good dad, Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Air Nomads (Avatar), Earth Kingdom (Avatar), Fire Nation (Avatar), Friendship, Gen, Minor Aang/Katara, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Omashu (Avatar), Order of the White Lotus, Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pre-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pre-Canon, Surviving Air Nomads (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmoonpeaches/pseuds/itsmoonpeaches
Summary: Bumi had only run into Aang and Gyatso because he was sneaking away from the palace again. He wanted to get away from etiquette and his brother, Rohan, who was in the throes of studying about a million different kinds of bows. Bumi got his peculiar nature (and fantastic fashion sense) from his mother, and because he was not born the crown prince, he was freer to run with it.He remembered that Aang took one good look at him, gray eyes roaming up and down, and grinned. “I like your crazy hair,” he had said with a laugh. Gyatso had given him a disapproving look that only a father would give to his son, but Bumi roared with mirth.-Or, the story about how Bumi finds Aang again after 100 years, and how his and Kuzon's efforts to save the Air Nomads finally come to fruition.
Relationships: Aang & Bumi & Kuzon (Avatar), Aang & Bumi (Avatar), Aang & Gyatso (Avatar), Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang & Kuzon (Avatar), Aang & Tenzin (Avatar), Bumi & Iroh, Bumi & Kuzon (Avatar), Bumi & Piandao, Bumi II & Kya II & Tenzin (Avatar), Tenzin & Iroh
Series: Legacy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879324
Comments: 36
Kudos: 142





	1. ...of a friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! You've made it to the 2 part sequel to Society. To be honest, I would read that first to fully understand the references that go on here. If you don't it's not a big deal, but you might be losing some information!
> 
> This is a story split into two parts that deals with the aftermath of the Order of the White Lotus' efforts to save the Air Nomads, as well as to tie up the loose ends on Bumi's side of Kuzon's story in Society. This is ultimately their legacy after all. This first chapter deals with Bumi, and the second will be further into the future and deals with Tenzin. 
> 
> Happy reading!

For a long time, Bumi relied on Kuzon to complete their missions for the Order of the White Lotus. They had worked together to find Aang, to free the Air Nomads that had escaped, and eventually to help find the missing Avatar. When the objective changed to looking for the last hope for the future of the world, their lives changed. It was not that the war itself had not changed Bumi’s life already—he had lost too many friends and his older brother to the clutches of it—but for so long he and Kuzon had clung onto the hope that Aang was alive. When any semblance of that desire vanished, it was like there was a fundamental shift.

It was not just Bumi and Kuzon that were affected, but it seemed that everyone was desperate for the light to be shed on them, pursuing a legend that had gone over a generation ago. None of Bumi’s peers had been alive or old enough to remember Avatar Roku and his impact. He was the Avatar for their parents’ generation. All they had to go by were stories that sounded nothing short of fantastical.

A person who could master all four elements? Ludicrous. Even more preposterous was the idea that one single human being was powerful enough to end a war that had been going on for decades in a nonviolent manner. As the war dragged on, that dream became even more distant. There was nothing but carnage and terror that ran the cliffs red. There was an entire generation of children that knew nothing of the world before.

Bumi saw that reality disappear the night he heard that the Air Nomads were attacked. Every single one of them, and every temple. They were hunted down to near extinction if not for the mad rush of Bumi, Kuzon, and the Order to find any remaining survivors to be put into hiding.

Eventually, even the Air Nomads and airbending itself became a sort of myth that faded into legend. In a sense it was freeing to know that Aang’s people would be remembered in that way, to know that they were part of a well storied past. But mostly, it was painful to watch it happen. He could see but a glimmer of the guilt that Kuzon felt through the years, but he suspected that there was more of it than the firebender let on.

He and Kuzon shared that connection, the one that tethered their friendship together with responsibility and shame. They were family in a way that Bumi’s mother and brother had never been, and even his wife and child. This was the kind of culpability that never left them, that lingered in their hearts and minds as a sickness would, and they were the only two that understood.

While Aang had been a little brother to Kuzon, Aang had been Bumi’s first real friend. He had grown up in Omashu’s court, swept up in the treatises and practices that taught him how to be a prince and not his true self.

Aang had arrived in the city one day with his guardian, Gyatso. He was seven years old, just a few months older than Bumi himself. He had come on the back of a flying bison with a baby Appa hovering by their side like all Air Nomads had. He was a child in search of adventure, and with the ability to finally find some. Aang had explained to both he and Kuzon that seven was an important age in his culture, and that it was the time the monks allowed them to begin to partake in the nomadic lifestyle of their people.

Bumi had only run into Aang and Gyatso because he was sneaking away from the palace again. He wanted to get away from etiquette and his brother, Rohan, who was in the throes of studying about a million different kinds of bows. Bumi got his peculiar nature (and fantastic fashion sense) from his mother, and because he was not born the crown prince, he was freer to run with it.

He remembered that Aang took one good look at him, gray eyes roaming up and down, and grinned. “I like your crazy hair,” he had said with a laugh. Gyatso had given him a disapproving look that only a father would give to his son, but Bumi roared with mirth.

They had bowed to each other and grasped hands in greeting. Bumi showed them all the fun things they could do in Omashu, including how to scare off the noble ladies from the courtyard so that they could properly play with the pigeons that roosted there. He showed them the barrels of water that held pentapi in the dingier alleys of the city, and Aang came up with a game of tag with them. It involved a lot of running and evasive maneuvering to avoid having a pentapus latch onto their exposed skin.

Bumi made it even more amusing by suggesting that Gyatso airbend the one being chased into the air every five minutes so that there would be a way to see where the other was at a patterned interval.

Unfortunately for them, their antics brought them into some trouble with an elderly man whose window they had broken. Gyatso had been so ashamed.

“Watch it you mangy kids!” the man yelled past the ripped window blinds. “It took me hours to fix these! What are your names?!”

There was only a bit of hesitation before Bumi shouted, “Bonzu Pippinpaddleopsicopolis…the Third!” After all, he was technically the third prince named Bumi in his family line.

They were chased from street to street, laughing all the way. Aang bounced on the balls of his feet, skidding on the cobblestones as Gyatso pushed them forward with airbending, panic written all over his face.

“Bumi,” Aang had panted out when they could hide behind a stack of boxes. He pulled a pentapus off the back of his bald head. “You’re a mad genius.”

That was the first of many times he would say that—even when he was introduced to Kuzon—right up until the last time Bumi saw Aang. On that final day, they rode the mail chutes of Omashu in a cart, gliding down them like the gigantic and inviting super slides they were.

Bumi did not realize that after that day his childhood would begin to die, that he would receive a missive from Kuzon tied to the legs of a messenger bird saying that Gyatso had come to him looking for Aang, that the Fire Nation would burn the Air Temples to the ground mere months later. That they would be wondering if Aang had survived it all.

From then on, Bumi found companionship with Kuzon from the moment that he had come begging for help in the search for Aang. The Order had become their lives soon after, the war becoming part of the blood in their veins.

His mother died of old age, and his brother had been cut down in the early days of battle. Bumi became king, and with it came responsibility. He could no longer help Kuzon in their search as much as he had been. His people were calling for an early marriage, all scared of the implications of a throne without an heir. He could understand them. War did that to people, and it created an era of fear when it came to insecurity.

He married a plain woman from a noble house from Ba Sing Se, a political move that would strengthen Omashu’s ties with the capital of the Earth Kingdom. He did not love her, and she did not love him, but their relationship was borne of respect. They produced a son when he was in his late thirties, just two years shy of his mother’s demise. They loved their son, but he was sickly, always bedridden.

When Bumi and his wife lost their son at the young age of twelve, it was Kuzon who he had left to comfort him. His wife fell into a depression that took her upon the gales of grief. Kuzon was who he trusted the most. Kuzon was the one that suggested that he look to the court of trusted noble families, or distant cousins for an heir.

“You don’t have to ruin your life too,” Kuzon had told him, placing an arm on his shoulder. “This war has already taken so much from everyone.”

But along with a member of the Order named Lee, Kuzon had to attend to the missions he could not. Even throughout all the hardship, they were both determined to find Air Nomads, to honor Aang in some way.

Later, the Pai Sho tile came saying that Kuzon needed to go north to find the Avatar. Bumi let him go, allowing Lee to accompany him until Kuzon needed to venture to the Southern Water Tribe. They exchanged letters often, keeping each other updated.

Bumi did not realize how comfortable he had become with this dynamic until one day Kuzon did not reply to his letters.

The hunters of the Southern Water Tribe found Kuzon’s body on the floes. Evidently, he had been dead for days when they discovered him. He had a knife in his stomach and a Fire Nation uniform on that they had recognized belonged to a Southern Raiders soldier that had attacked one of the villages. It was easy to piece together what Kuzon’s plan had been from then on.

The chief had given him a proper sea burial. The tribe fixed Kuzon’s hair and wrapped the body in animal skins, before letting the ocean have it.

 _This was the least we could do,_ the chief had written to Bumi. _He was one of our protectors and warriors, and he was your friend._

Bumi’s hands wavered on the paper, the edges crinkling when he read the last line.

_He looked content somehow._

He crumpled up what was left, ink smudging under his sweaty palms. Kuzon would not have a funeral. As far as Omashu knew, he was like a ghost the came in and out of their city. But the palace knew. The Order knew.

When Lee came in, door creaking open, it was with a somber expression. “I read the letter before I gave it to you,” he said slowly, carefully. He swallowed. “I am sorry, my king.”

Bumi glanced up from his seat in his office, adjusting his feathered crown. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, feeling a note of hysteria trap itself in his throat. He almost snorted out a joke for old time’s sake. “It’s the way things are.”

-

He had Lee for a time.

But he was hesitant for most of it in his old age. A widower was still a widower, and though he did not love his wife as he would have liked, he still mourned her.

It took a long while, but after her death all those years ago, Bumi and Lee were together in a way that felt complete. A political marriage was often not one of love, but of convenience. He did gain a beautiful son, but when he was gone that seemed to be it. He was lost and Bumi had no biological heir. He was grateful for Kuzon’s quick thinking in that regard. If it were not for him, well…

At eighty years, Bumi had lost much and seen too many people pass him by in the flicker of time. He was a ruler in an age of war. There was nothing that truly fazed him anymore. Soldiers would come home to Omashu on stretchers and half-dead. People started to think him crazy, but he accepted that notion with a maniacal laugh.

He threw feasts for anyone and everyone that was worthy enough of his attention. He made sure not to waste food where it was not needed, though. He took rations from his own reserves and made sure his people were fed first.

“King Bumi, sir,” a guard saluted him as he sat back on his throne, “news from the frontline and from Ba Sing Se!”

Azulon tried to break the walls again. It was nothing new. What _was_ new was the fact that Ba Sing Se began taking in refugees through an old hidden port called Full Moon Bay.

The war had thinned the Earth Kingdom to the point where the entire western continent was not what he remembered it being as a child. There were colonies across the seaboard, and some were old enough to be there since before even he was born.

The White Lotus occasionally sent him tiles, updating he and Lee on the search for the Avatar. Not that Lee could do much. He was slowing down, and it was with resignation that Bumi knew that his partner would soon fizzle out like the rest of the people he knew. A deep ache rang hollow in his chest, an ache that he had not felt since he lost his family and oldest friends. He was aging, and had seen much, but loss still rang true even if he had witnessed too much of it.

“Send the Earth King my regards,” Bumi said importantly, “as well as a cart full of cabbages!”

He continued like that for years still. Only Omashu and Ba Sing Se remained the final strongholds of the kingdom. However, Bumi suspected there must have been more going on under the surface. When the Earth King’s letters started to sound robotic and the handwriting began to change into a more slanted font, he believed that his city was the only free Earth Kingdom sanctuary left.

Bumi scanned a recent letter, frowning. It felt like lead in his hands as he saw the words upon the pages:

_We have taken a vacation to Lake Laogai. Out in the country. It is quite nice there, King Bumi. It makes us forget about the goings-on beyond the walls. We are indebted to the people of our great land. We are indebted to the effort to bring us to freedom. We feel more and more that the war disappears._

There was nothing comforting about what the Earth King shared.

-

At one-hundred and seven years old, he had survived helping with the battle against the Dragon of the West. He had been the only Fire Nation general that broke through the fortress that was Ba Sing Se. It was only after six-hundred days that the man in question finally broke. There were claims that what had caused the retreat was the death of his son.

Bumi had been on the frontlines himself. His earthbending was revered as some of the best in the world. He had struck men and women down with ruthless abandon, in different poses and stances that he was sure only Kuzon would have appreciated. He pounded out his fists, shaking the earth beneath enemy soldiers’ feet. The world rocked, and the men withdrew.

It had been one of the most intense battles of the entire war yet, and that was saying something. There were too many lives lost, too many fires to be put out. Bumi had heard of Han Tui when he was younger and had been one of the commanders in the Battle of Garsai. Both were tragic losses, but none came so closely devastating as this had.

On the one hand, the Earth Kingdom had won this fight. One the other, there was damage to be repaired. Ba Sing Se had already fallen from grace and its leadership a shadow of its former self. Bumi could see how much more fear this would stir, how much more hurt.

He passed the piles of burning dead, the bloodied dog tags littered upon the soil, and gathered what was left of his men.

Days later, Bumi had returned to Omashu and found out that Azulon had followed in his father’s footsteps and had died in his sleep. His second son, Ozai was to take over.

For a time, Bumi felt resentment toward Azulon for dying so peacefully. He had been the Fire Lord for most of the war effort. It could not be fair that this death was the way he went.

Still, he remembered Kuzon and the excitement he felt at the changing of the guard. _Maybe this could be it,_ hoped Bumi with a tentative thought. _Maybe this is the moment that Kuzon and I were waiting for…maybe this Ozai will fail or maybe he will end it all._

He did not.

-

It was only two years after the Siege of Ba Sing Se that Bumi noticed there was something different about the way the Order of the White Lotus ran things. Bumi himself was a well-respected member, but he heard rumors of a rapidly rising one. They said that this mysterious individual was projected to become a Grand Lotus in record time.

Apparently, this person was said to be funding their Knowledge Road, passing scrolls from Air Temples, and lost Southern Water Tribe waterbending illustrations through the black market and through the use of pirates of all things. Bumi wanted to meet this person so badly. They seemed like someone he could get along with if the unconventional means of secret-keeping were anything to go by.

It turned out he would get his wish.

In the night, he received a white lotus tile in its tell-tale leather pouch. It was hidden with his usual order of feasting foods, namely the meat with no skin. (He was trying to promote a healthier diet within his city, thank you very much.) He usually inspected the raw meats himself before they made it to the kitchens. It was a strange habit of his, but it made himself feel useful. He also liked the looks of disgust his guards got whenever he stuck his hands in the squelching goodness of possum chicken wings, but that was another matter entirely.

When he came back to his chambers with the tile, he made sure to wash it in his water basin. He did not want to get guts all over his robes, of course. Written on it was an encrypted message: _Bo Village in three days. A ceremony of a new Grand Lotus._

Technically speaking, he could only go so far from his city, but he had friends in his own palace walls that would give excuses for his absence. How could he not? He _was_ the king.

A man met him at the gates, smiling a knowing kind of smile. They exited without fanfare to make their way to their destination.

“Ah, Piandao,” said Bumi with a grin, “Fancy seeing you here.”

The man’s gray eyes twinkled as he gazed at Bumi. He was dark-skinned like his grandmother had been but had inherited his grandfather’s demeanor. Though considered an older man himself, he was nowhere near Bumi’s age. “How could I resist when I knew you were coming, old friend?”

Bumi scoffed as they made their way to a pair of ostrich horses. “Who are you calling old?” he asked. He mounted one of the beasts with a grunt, his travel robes rustling. He was lucky that he had removed his crown, otherwise it would have been another extra burden to carry.

“Even when I left military service, you have always been _old,”_ said Piandao. He flicked his wrists on the reins and the two of the moved forward. “The fact that you were friends with my grandparents when they were teenagers is proof enough.”

Bumi laughed, snorting through his nostrils. The wind billowed across his wrinkled face. He could almost imagine Juna’s easy laugh, so much like Aang’s had been. To know that he and Aka had married and made a life together in the Fire Nation despite Juna having to live the rest of his life in hiding from his true ancestry in the Air Nomads, was somehow a comfort. He saw Aang’s people in Piandao, looked for them in the unknown places that he and Kuzon had slipped them away in across the planet.

Airbending was all but gone, but the spirit of the art was alive.

It was only a few hours until they made it to the village at the base of the mountains south of Omashu. Dawn limned the horizon in a line of light azure, a shade so brilliant that it almost hurt his eyes to look at it.

The dirt road was winding, and the bluffs that surrounded them were towering and craggy. He felt like he did when he was younger and off on an adventure with his friends. If he closed his eyes, he could hear Aang’s laughter and Kuzon’s grumbling as they climbed rocks and made trouble wherever they went. Oftentimes, he realized that childhood was taken for granted, even for a man like himself.

He heard a distressed rumbling noise to the left of their path. Piandao met his eyes, surprised. Without another word, they followed it. Their steeds whined as they trotted against a steep slope, pebbles tumbling down with each step. Bumi steadied their gait with earthbending, flattening any upcoming stones.

They crested upon a hill and upon it he saw the fallen form of a full-grown female goat gorilla. However, what was once such a beautiful creature was now a husk of itself. Its normally cream fur was pallid and limp. Its ribs were sticking out like it was starved, and its emerald eyes were dull. Bumi knew a corpse when he saw one.

The squealing repeated and there was the sound of shuffling footsteps.

“There now,” came a whispered baritone. “There, there, little one.”

Bumi dismounted and Piandao followed close behind him. A trail of footsteps led to the other side of the body where an elderly man (but not as elderly as Bumi), sat on his haunches holding a baby goat gorilla that was as large as two whole sacks of rice. The creature was whimpering, clamping its teeth together, little tusks sticking out of its lips, and wide eyes looking so incredibly sad.

What stunned Bumi was not the fact that this man was trying to comfort an abandoned animal, but the fact this his graying hair was tied in a topknot that matched Piandao’s. He was immediately cautious. His hands clenched at his sides and rock encased the man’s ankles.

“Fire Nation,” said Bumi with a frown. “What are you doing on Earth Kingdom territory?”

Piandao raised his eyebrows. “I think you forget that I’m Fire Nation as well,” he deadpanned.

Bumi glanced to him. “You’re different,” he stated, then turned his attention back to the man. “Well?”

The man struggled to turn his head. His amber eyes were gold in the awakening sunlight. He had a sagging face, but a kind one. His beard was pointed and well kept, and his faded tan clothes contrasted on his pale demeanor. “I am just a passerby, fellow traveler,” he placated. “I am on my way to Bo Village, and had to stop when I found this sweet one crying for help.” He shifted, allowing the scrunched-up face of the goat gorilla to be revealed.

“A passerby? There are few friendly Fire Nation passerby in this area,” said Bumi with some skepticism.

The man seemed to observe him for a minute before responding. “I assure you I am, King Bumi and Master Piandao,” he intoned with a smile. “After all, all three of us are headed in the same direction, brothers.”

Bumi reeled back, releasing the man from the earth shackles.

“Iroh of the Fire Nation,” said the man when he did not say anything. “I am pleased to meet you.” He stood after laying the trembling creature at his feet. He bowed at them.

“The Dragon of the West,” spoke Piandao with awe.

“I’m not called that around these parts,” Iroh corrected. He bent down to pat the goat gorilla. “What shall we do with this one?”

Bumi saw the baby for the first time without any distractions. Its quivering form inched toward him, as if drawn to him. He crouched down, ignoring the creaks in his spine. Its ears flopped on its face, and he was sure if the thing had been human, there would have been tears. The way it had looked at him from the tilt of his head to the pathetic wobble of its chin, he was reminded of the way Aang had described how he met Appa.

“He was so happy when he ate my apple!” he remembered Aang telling him. “I could tell that he was scared to be separated from his mother, but right then, I knew we would be best friends!”

Bumi reached forward, hand outstretched. “Come here floppy one,” he murmured. “Come here little floppy beast. Little flop…flopsie.”

The goat gorilla leaned into his palm and Bumi could feel the cold wetness of the snout. He was in love already.

“Well,” he drawled as he sat all the way down in the dirt, the baby wrapped up in the fabric of his robes. “Do you think the Grand Lotus will mind if we bring along a pet?”

Iroh chuckled, eyes twinkling. “No, I don’t think he will.”

-

One-hundred and twelve years was a long time to be alive. Bumi had seen and experienced much in that time. One could call him old, yet he did not feel it. He was more attentive and spryer than he ever had been.

His city was thriving. As alive as it could be in a war that had lasted them an entire century. By now, Bumi had forgotten what peace felt like. But since he had found Flopsie, and the end of the Siege of Ba Sing Se, there was a tentative feeling of hope. It had grown gradually, ever so slowly, like a flower about to burst forth from the ground. He could feel the anticipation in his people, and that anticipation grew ten-fold with rumors that the Avatar had returned.

The Order had a sort of frenetic energy to it now. There was a buzz that reverberated in every message, every word of news he received.

The Temple of the Avatar in a nearby rural town had lit up weeks ago, the glowing eyes of every past Earth Kingdom Avatar that was depicted on the mural searing deep into the memory of the sage that had witnessed it. The Fire Nation’s Prince Zuko was said to be more active than usual, scouring the waters for any sign of this fabled being. He got plenty of updates about it at every port they stopped at thanks to Iroh.

The kicker? The Avatar was seen on Kyoshi Island. The home of one of this elusive person’s past lives was a great place to start looking, and a credible source at that. Avatar Kyoshi herself was not remembered to be a woman that joked about important things, and her people were cut from the same cloth.

He heaved a sigh, sinking his cheek into his hand. His elbow balanced on one of the arms of his throne. The door banged open and he looked up, ready for excitement.

“Intruders!” bellowed a disheveled guard. “They are vandalizing the city, sire!”

“What are you waiting for?” he inquired with a crinkle of his mouth. “What are their names?”

“Pippinpaddleopsicopolis, my king. A family of them,” declared the guard with a grimace. “Three children led by a boy who calls himself Bonzu Pippinpaddleopsicopolis the Third.”

Bumi sat up straight, heart bounding in his chest. _No,_ he thought, _this is impossible._ He ordered them to be dragged inside to face him at the foot of his dais.

But it _was_ possible.

He raised an eyebrow at the two Water Tribe teenagers, and then to the airbender beside them. The boy was dressed in acolyte clothes and they were the orange and yellow hues he remembered. This same boy had the arrow tattoos of a master.

Bumi was able to hide his surprise well. He had too much practice.

He could almost hear the Kuzon in his past yelling at him on his knees, pleading, “I’m begging you, Bumi! He has to be out there! I know you got my letter! We can find Aang together!”

All the trouble the two of them had went through had to be worth it, if just for this moment. It was with a vague sense of irony that Bumi called Aang the Avatar. It was with absolute certainty that Bumi challenged Aang (and for a bit of his own entertainment). He watched his old lost friend traverse the waterfall to latch onto his lunchbox key, watched him navigate an arena to find Flopsie, and finally he fought him with the strength and experience of a man that had clashed with an airbender before. Perhaps one of the only ones left alive that had.

And it was as a relieved friend that he embraced Aang as he had wished he could for so many decades, burrowing his smaller form into his arms. He did it for Kuzon and for himself, and he felt the joy he had forgotten that he was missing.

Then when the war culminated at the end of that same year, Bumi was reminded of how peace felt like. He had believed in his friend more than anyone else, and he was more than happy to be proven correct.

Aang returned to Ba Sing Se. The White Lotus had stayed for a few weeks to assist with an orderly transition of power and clean up. All Aang’s new friends had followed him, and Bumi recalled the days of their past when he and Kuzon would have done just the same. Neither of them had known why at the time, but Aang had a magnetic personality that instilled loyalty and compassion like no other person inspired. He had always been kind and understanding, open to others, a leader.

Bumi wondered if those were things about Aang that exisited because he was the Avatar or because he was Aang. When he saw the way the Water Tribe girl named Katara looked at him, a softness in her eyes that he had only seen when Aka spoke to Janu, he understood that it had to be the latter reason. His other friends, Toph, Sokka, and Suki, teased him, ribbing him with wide smiles. Fire Lord Zuko himself seemed to be a different person than last he had heard of him. The people flocked around Aang, contentment in every moment.

Only Aang himself could be loved in such a way that was uniquely his own. Only Aang could bring people from all over the world together upon the promise of a journey and come back with friendships that lasted lifetimes. It was the reason he and Kuzon had searched for him for so long, a century in fact.

The Avatar became a beacon of hope, a symbol, a truth. But to Bumi, Aang would always be Aang no matter how the world changed around him.

“I’ve missed you, old friend,” Bumi said to Aang as Iroh’s Jasmine Dragon tea shop shuttered closed around them. Even weeks after they had taken Ba Sing Se back from the Fire Nation, peace felt like a novelty to him. It had been so long.

“I missed you too,” answered Aang. He gave him a soft smile and sipped from the steaming cup of tea in his hand.

“I never thought I would see you again.”

Aang paused, seeing Bumi above the rim of his beaverage. “Life is funny like that sometimes,” he murmured with a wisdom in his voice that Bumi could not pinpoint. “We don’t choose the people we meet and when they leave us, but sometimes a bond is more than enough to find them again.”

Bumi snorted a laugh. “I’ve missed your Air Nomad proverbs too!”

Aang shook his head, beaming. “It’s no proverb,” he explained, “Just…something I’ve learned recently.” He looked away into the skies beyond the round windows of the shop, peering into the stars. “It’s like my people. I’m sure someday, they’ll come back. Somehow.”

If there was anything that Bumi had learned after becoming a centenarian, it was that sometimes the seeds one planted in the present would not sprout until the future watered them. In that moment, that was what he saw: all the seeds that he and Kuzon had sowed across the globe in the years that led up to this. It might not have been the way they had envisioned things, per se, but he knew it was a start. He could not help but agree that the Air Nomads would return. Aang would not always be the last airbender.

“Someday,” approved Bumi.

They sat in silence for a while, just watching the clouds flit by across the sickle moon. Kuzon would have loved this. He would have wanted Aang to know that he had been his friend all along, that nothing changed that. Not even the fact that the war had begun because of the Fire Nation, nor that his father and sister had played critical roles in it.

Bumi noted Aang’s profile, noticing for the first time the ancient soul that settled on his friend’s shoulders. He thought that it was the least he could do.

He opened his mouth and asked, “Did you ever wonder what happened to Kuzon?”

They smiled together, and the story came so simply that he could not believe he never told anyone before. No one had ever asked, and he supposed no one had ever cared.

Bumi was happy from that moment on. Truly and wholly happy. Even though his life had not been a peaceful one, he had found peace in the end. He could only wish that Kuzon had found that serenity too. If not, he would do it here and now…for the three of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe that was a little rough around the edges? I hope that was satisfying to read, especially for those of you who were wondering what had happened to Bumi!
> 
> Please a comment and/or kudos below if you liked it!


	2. ...of a nation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenzin really liked the story of Monk Gyatso and his fruit pies. He thought they were funny, and his brother and sister seemed to think so too.
> 
> “When I was about Bumi’s age,” his father started, “I trained with the monks in the Southern Air Temple. My guardian always made training fun though!” He laughed, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He had the same eye shape as Tenzin, and they both shared the same gray pupils. But Tenzin being half of his mother, had a little blue in his eyes that he quite liked. 
> 
> “How did Monk Gyatso make it fun, dad?” Bumi asked excitedly, leaning forward on his hands and knees with an over-eager expression. 
> 
> -
> 
> Or, Tenzin learns what legacy was left behind for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end of this series! It's been a great run! 
> 
> This entire series started out as a crazy experiment to see how far I can take pre-canon to work into canon. I cannot believe we got here. It kind of also evolved into a semi-Aang appreciation thing. If I'm going to justify that Kuzon and Bumi spent the rest of their lives looking for Aang, then obviously Aang must have been a great friend. Also, Aang has my whole heart.
> 
> This final chapter is from Tenzin's point of view, and attempts to bring all the loose strings together from as far back as Kuzon and Bumi's time.
> 
> Enjoy!

Since he was very small, he and his siblings knew that there was a heritage that they could not quite comprehend. Besides their father and mother’s star-studded accomplishments, there was something else that was beyond them.

He had always been curious as to why Avatar Aang was the only airbender around, why he was the only one with such unique blue arrow tattoos, why he was the only one who dressed in the fall colored robes of a master airbender. It was never explained to him, Bumi, and Kya until they were older. For a long while, it had been something that they had lived with. It was normal.

Perhaps things started to click into place when he was five years old. He was a tiny kid for his age, and not particularly hyperactive compared to his older siblings, but he did often feel left out. He wanted to splash in the water like Kya, who practiced her waterbending forms with both their parents every day. He wanted to learn martial arts and wield training swords with Uncle Sokka and Aunt Suki like Bumi. Instead, he was considered too young and a liability.

“When you’re older,” his mom chastised him whenever he tried to do either of those things. “You’re still too small.”

Instead, he would sometimes play with the lemurs on Air Temple Island and sat beneath one of the many trees that shaded him from the sun. He would look out into Yue Bay, see the bustling Republic City before him as it grew ever larger every day. His father would join him as often as he could, and he would bring Bumi and Kya too. They sat around a little fire that he had conjured from his firebending, and their mother came out of the house with a basket of moon peaches to pass around as they traded stories. They sat under the light of the setting sun, chilled by the autumn breeze that swept through the towering buildings.

Tenzin really liked the story of Monk Gyatso and his fruit pies. He thought they were funny, and his brother and sister seemed to think so too.

“When I was about Bumi’s age,” his father started, “I trained with the monks in the Southern Air Temple. My guardian always made training fun though!” He laughed, a crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He had the same eye shape as Tenzin, and they both shared the same gray pupils. But Tenzin being half of his mother, had a little blue in his eyes that he quite liked.

“How did Monk Gyatso make it fun, dad?” Bumi asked excitedly, leaning forward on his hands and knees with an over-eager expression. 

His dad held up a finger and a miniature tornado appeared spinning as he rotated it, weighing it like a top. “He came up with games, you see,” he continued, the grin never leaving his face. “Like to practice one of the most advanced airbending techniques, we played airball! To make sure my aim was good enough, we made fruit pies!”

“What kind of fruit pies?” asked Kya as she munched on a stiff moon peach. Its pink juices dribbled down her chin.

“All kinds!” he exclaimed, releasing the tornado. He watched it dissipate. “Nectarines, blackberries, jack fruit, dragon fruit, lingonberries, custard apple…and we would dye them different colors too!” He smiled at them with a conspiratorial waggle of his eyebrows. “But the best part was fluffing up the gooey center!”

His mom giggled at his eagerness, chiding him lightly for teasing them all.

His father demonstrated a circular motion, causing a slight swirl of air to appear in the center of their family circle, but far enough away from the warmth of their campfire. “It was something like this,” he said. He made a vague movement with his arms that looked like he rotated his shoulder and pushed forward. “Then, we took aim and fired them onto the heads of all the meditating elders! They didn’t like that, but it was still all in good fun!”

His mother put a hand up to her mouth to hold in a snort. “Are you sure that made you better at aiming, or an incurable prankster, Aang?”

He pouted in return, and even Tenzin could not help but laugh. “I resent that! I happen to have impeccable aim!”

“Alright, _sure,_ Mister Master of All Four Elements,” she jested. “I’m sure you were saying that earlier today when both you and I were demonstrating a waterbending move to Kya and you _missed_ the apple on the tree by an entire arm’s length.”

“Katara,” he whined comically, “I was distracted!”

“By what? The fact that I did my water whip better than you, _Master_ Aang?”

His dad scoffed, turning red in the face, and blubbering out jumbled statements that did not seem to make any sense to Tenzin nor to either of his siblings. There was a lot of teasing that began going around. Bumi started to support their father and Kya was on their mother’s side of whatever convoluted contest they had going on.

Tenzin shook his head. He was _five._ He was old enough to be more mature than them. He bit into another peach, relishing in the sweet tartness that settled on his tongue.

The winds were louder today, and maybe it was because they were sitting near the top of the island, or maybe it was because they were so close to the water. His dad had explained that autumn was the season when the wind was at its strongest as well, so he thought that maybe that was it. Winter was water’s season, just like spring and summer were for earth and fire, respectively. All the elements, in perfect balance as they should be.

He breathed in, tuning out the banter of his family. He could feel the soft gales rustling through the dark locks of his short hair. Just so, like his mother’s hand was running through them. Tenzin was curious about the tickling feeling he was getting from the air, and the leaves that whirled with it. He thought it was rather amusing to think of each leaf as a dancing kite and imagined every single one to be part of an elaborate show.

He copied their whirling movements, pursing his lips, rotating his hands, observing the spinning leaves on the ground beside the fire.

Some dirt moved in a circle, as did a few pebbles. He moved his hand faster, getting excited at the prospect of more funny-moving foliage. He did not realize that everyone around him stopped talking.

Tenzin watched as the leaves flew higher above the surface until one hit him on the cheek. He was so surprised that he exhaled without thinking and for some reason his whole body slammed backward into the tree. He sat there, blinking, and absolutely stunned.

“What just happened?” uttered Kya, teal eyes wide.

“Did Tenzin just…?” murmured Bumi, mouth agape.

Tenzin did not know what to think. For a moment, he was silent, and everything about him was buzzing with energy that he could not explain. He was frightened by it, shivering.

Kya shifted, suddenly quivering herself. “Daddy are you okay?” she asked.

That was what got Tenzin’s attention. He had never seen his father cry before. His usually bright silver eyes were welling with tears, and it looked like he had no intention of stopping them. In fact, he did not seem to know they were coming at all. Then, in one fell swoop, he dropped his head in his hands and started to sob. His shoulders shook and he turned away from them. His mother did not hesitate to embrace him. She was crying too.

“My people they—” his father started, gasping as his mother gathered him closer to her.

“They aren’t gone,” she finished for him. “Just like you said. Just like King Bumi said.” She thumbed away his trailing tears, a soft smile gracing her features. She kissed him on the cheek. “They’re alive in our children.”

Tenzin, Kya, and Bumi all glanced at each other, confusion on their faces. Bumi, who had perked up at hearing his namesake, looked floored. They had known that he had been named after a king of Omashu, but somehow there was a brand-new meaning to all that. Tenzin did not know what it was. He was too young and too fixated on reconciling with the situation that had just occurred. He let out a breath and leaned into Kya’s inviting arms.

-

When Tenzin was eleven years old, he loved to use his airbending to make the fronds of the plants in the courtyard move. It was oddly relaxing, especially after a long day of avoiding his siblings’ antics. He always told himself that though he was the youngest, he was the one with the most responsibility. Kya had her waterbending, Bumi has his instruments and weaponry, but he was the _airbender._ The acolytes and the world seemed to always tell him that he had a legacy to uphold, and he would do it.

Though every time he would bring it up when his parents were around, he noticed a peculiar look in their eyes. Especially in his father’s.

“You’re not alone in this, Tenzin,” his father would say when he would start to sulk about it, “You have your brother and sister to help you too, and me. Your mother knows so much about the Air Nomads herself.”

“But none of them _get it,_ dad!” he would shout back. “Not like you do.”

That faraway look in his gaze would return, something that Tenzin could not quite understand. His father was powerful, a thrumming force to behold, a beating heart that held their family together in more ways than one. His mother was the nurturing one. The one that had louder, stronger opinions, someone who would brush the breadcrumbs off their clothes, and blow on their cuts. His father was the one that he and his siblings were able to talk to, who would make them laugh at his playfulness, who would come up with creative ways for them to tackle problems, who helped his mother to provide for them even when he had to be away.

It was not that his father was absent, but it was that he could not always be there. His mother understood this, and to an extent Tenzin did too. What was important was that he, Kya, and Bumi knew that he would come back with a smile and warmth that would encapsulate them in love. 

Because of this, it was with trepidation that Tenzin observed his father whenever he got that look. He did not know where it was coming from, nor what it meant. All he knew was that it happened every so often when Tenzin was least expecting it. The strange gleam that would flicker in his irises whenever someone mentioned something about the rebirth of the Air Nomads, the downturn of the corners of his mouth, the way he would have to excuse himself sometimes so he could meditate. His mother let him be when this occurred, and she too would sigh as if this were something only the two of them could comprehend.

His mother always said Tenzin was far more reserved than his siblings were, and even compared to his father who was one of the most prominent people on the planet, he supposed he was. Maybe it was because he noticed from a young age that he and his father were the only two airbenders he had ever met.

“I see you are by yourself again,” said a familiar gravelly voice. With it came the soft pitter-patter of footfalls.

Tenzin tilted his head upward, angling so that the sunlight offered him a view of the old man that walked toward him. He was sitting in the lotus position by a pond of turtle ducks, just finishing a gentle breeze that caused the ferns by the water to waver.

Iroh grinned at him, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced. Even with stark white hair and an elderly age, Fire Lord Zuko’s uncle was as jovial as ever. He was slower than when Tenzin had last seen him and complained more about back aches. He had recently retired from his tea shop in Ba Sing Se in favor of spending his days in the Fire Nation with his nephew and his family. Nevertheless, the energy Iroh had never left him.

“Help an old man to sit down, will you?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his words.

Without hesitation, Tenzin stood up and reached for Iroh’s arm, carefully bringing them both down to sit at the water’s edge, just underneath the shade of the acacia tree. Behind them, the turtle ducks squawked in annoyance when a leaf fell in their path, rippling the pond surface.

Iroh let out a huff of relief, and with a weary grunt, he leaned onto the trunk. “Summer is a nice time, isn’t it, young Tenzin?”

Tenzin frowned, raising an eyebrow. He could feel the droplets of sweat dribbling down his back. “I’m not sure it’s my favorite season. It’s too hot. Not like fall.”

Iroh laughed, his belly moving with each guffaw. “I suppose you are right. You are an airbender after all. Fall is your preferred season above all the others. I’m sure your father feels the same,” he grinned.

“I’m not sure,” said Tenzin, playing with a fallen green leaf, wiggling his fingers so that the air between them swirled it around his digits. “Dad’s the Avatar. I think he likes all seasons equally.”

“The seasons are part of a cycle,” replied Iroh, shrugging through his long crimson sleeves, “and like the cycle of the seasons, the cycle of the Avatar will always follow.” 

They sat in silence for a while, just basking in the rays of the early morning sun. Tenzin liked Iroh, appreciated him like his own grandfather, Hakoda. He did not have any biological family from his father’s side, so he liked to think that Iroh kind of filled that void. Him, and all his parents’ close friends. He was wise and patient, and for some reason he reminded Tenzin of the man his father spoke of sometimes…Monk Gyatso.

“I sense that you have a lot on your mind,” spoke Iroh, breaking the tranquil space between them.

“I always have a lot on my mind,” replied Tenzin, pouting.

Iroh leaned over to poke him in the forehead, and Tenzin responded by rubbing it with the back of his hand with an irritated glance. Iroh beamed. “You are much too young to be thinking so deeply. You need to relax, enjoy the world for what it is.”

“My _parents_ aren’t relaxing!” he protested.

He was right and he knew it. They were in the Fire Nation to visit old friends, sure. But they were also there to negotiate a trade dispute between the Fire Nation and the Northern Water Tribe. He was not keen on any of the details, but he did know that if the Avatar was needed, then it had to be serious enough. His mother even had to get involved as well as Uncle Sokka because they were Water Tribe and important voices in the governments of the world.

“Yes, and you are a child,” placated Iroh again, patting him on the top of his bald head. “You don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders, and nor should you.”

Tenzin let out a puff of air from his lips, causing a burst of a breeze to billow forth before them. He turned away from Iroh, instead looking to his lap. He could feel the stare that the old man was giving him. It tingled along the back of his neck like the heat of the trade winds that blew across the swells of an ocean.

“You know,” Iroh began after a long moment, “there were generations of people before us that fought so that you should not feel the burden you feel. All kinds of people long gone that lived and died so that we could have hope for the future.” He took Tenzin’s chin and lifted his head so that he could look at him directly. “I know you feel that you need to learn all the things your father teaches you so that you can continue on the Air Nomads’ culture, but I don’t think he has ever meant for you to feel that way.”

Tenzin moved back, glancing away. “I know,” he answered.

“You do not sound so sure.”

“I am,” Tenzin insisted.

There was another pause, and then Iroh tapped him on his shoulder and soon they were standing up together. “Come follow me. I will show you something,” he stated.

The two of them walked the halls of the Fire Nation royal palace, the sunrise refracting across the sleek marble and the windowpanes. The dark red curtains billowed inward from the humid breeze that flowed from the outside as they left the courtyard. The whole place seemed to be asleep. Tenzin knew Bumi and Kya were. He was always the early riser.

For a few minutes, it was like Tenzin was meandering in long stretches of corridors that he did not recognize. He found new places every time he visited Izumi and her family, so it was not a surprise. He noticed that the lighting changed and there were more torches framing them on either side. They passed the hall of the past Fire Lords that he had seen the first time he had stayed. Gigantic paintings of previous rulers loomed beside them as their shoes clacked on the bronze tiles. He shuddered at the covered likeness of Fire Lord Sozin. Even though a cloak shielded the picture of the man from the world, Tenzin could still feel his vigilant gold eyes.

Fire Lord Zuko and his advisors opted to keep the paintings of the Fire Lords during the Hundred Year War present, but to hide them so that they could not be seen. His father had explained that the nation wanted this to serve as a sort of reminder to every future leader of the Fire Nation of what could happen if one overstepped their power. This was only for the royal family, and not for the public eye. Every statue and hallmark of Fire Lords Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai were removed from the rest of the country. There was no need to immortalize men who reveled in murder for them.

They reached the end of a wing that Tenzin had not been to before. There were a pair of guards posted outside that stood to attention as soon as they spotted them.

“Prince Iroh, sir,” one of them said, bowing.

Iroh waved them off. “Come now, Kagome, none of that. We have a guest,” he said.

She bent even lower at the response, utterly waving off the insistence. Tenzin shook his head, following the man inside and past the grand double doors inlaid with metal designs. When they stepped inside, he realized that they must have been in some sort of bedchamber. There was a sitting room towards the front, and a low table with a pair of flat cushions. On top of it was an elegant tea set. There was a pot with a dragonhead spout, and white porcelain cups beside it on a serving tray. Tenzin could just see a four-poster bed just beyond another narrow door.

“Ah, this must be where it is,” muttered Iroh to himself. He was rummaging though a rather well-organized bookshelf lined with scrolls and tomes. There was an entire wall of them, just on the opposite end of the room and facing the tea area.

Tenzin walked over, curious. “What are you looking for?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together. He tried to stand on his tiptoes to peer around the man, but he was too short to spot anything of use.

After another few moments, Iroh shouted, “Aha!” He pulled out a tightly wound scroll. Its edges appeared yellowed with age, and a green ribbon held it together. It was wrinkled and well-creased. Someone must have read it a dozen times over the years. He snatched another item from the shelf, an odd little leather pouch with frayed drawstrings. “This is what I was hoping to find,” he added.

Tenzin held out his hand at Iroh’s nod, and the pouch was unceremoniously plopped into his waiting palm. Biting his lip, he decided to open it. After a few seconds of struggling with the knot, a chipped Pai Sho tile slid out. There was fading paint, and the lines of a white lotus carving upon it. There were unusual characters written along the edges in black ink, characters he did not recognize the meaning of. They looked ancient somehow, like they belonged to a different time and place.

“What is…” Tenzin started, not knowing what else to say.

Iroh plucked the tile from his hand. “You know of the Order of the White Lotus. We came out of hiding in recent years after we took back Ba Sing Se at the end of the war, and now we stand as a neutral organization that assists the Avatar wherever he cannot be. We report to him when something of importance happens and support all nations in keeping the balance.”

Tenzin nodded, remembering the White Lotus guards that sometimes wandered around Air Temple Island. Even though their existence was now public knowledge, he was told that most of their activities were kept secret, including communication styles. Even from the Avatar himself. 

“Before and during the war, we were a secret society,” Iroh continued. He unraveled the scroll in his hands with care. “We communicated with each other strategically and had our own missions. Our most famous mission yet was to save as many Air Nomads as we could after Sozin attacked the temples.”

Tenzin looked up sharply, mouth open in surprise.

Iroh pointed to the tile that still sat in his hands. “That tile says to find the Avatar in the north,” he said with a fond look, “It was given to an old friend of your father’s.” He took the tile and switched it for the scroll for Tenzin to read. “Go ahead,” he remarked. “See what it says, little one.”

What Tenzin saw was a piece of parchment with scrawny writing. The letters and characters were smudged in places, and there were splotches of discolored spots in places.

_Kuzon,_

_I have told you that the scholars in the Order say that the Air Nomads will return with all our efforts in my last letter to you. I wonder if I should learn more about this Guru Laghima. I am sure Aang would have known who he was. I wish we could have asked him._

_My people are feasting, and I am enjoying it. Little pleasures in the war! Lee is coming around to it, but he is not nearly as enthusiastic about komodo chicken as you are!_

_How is the Southern Water Tribe? I have not heard from you in weeks. Maybe when spring comes, you can return to Omashu. We have much to discuss now that the Order has studied what they have. We can really get Aang’s people back! I know it. I feel it in my young bones!_

_–Bumi_

Tenzin finished the letter, glimpsing Iroh’s face as he smiled at him. His father had spoken about Guru Laghima and his teachings, the ability to detach oneself from their earthly tether to the point of literal flight. He had been known as the most spiritual airbender and Air Nomad in history.

“That was a letter from King Bumi to Kuzon, friends of your father’s when he was child,” informed Iroh. “It was collected a long time ago, from an old chief from the south who sent it back to Bumi. It’s one of the only written evidence that we have that the Order did find airbenders. They hid them all over the world. We don’t know now who their descendants are, but they are there somewhere.”

Tenzin gulped. He had not known this. “Does my dad know what they did?”

Iroh beamed. “Of course,” he said. “But it’s been generations. He knows that he must wait. There is no use in searching for something you do not know how to find. And,” he chuckled, rubbing the top of Tenzin’s head, “he has you and your family to give him all the hope he needs.” 

He saw the words on the page: _We can really get Aang’s people back! I know it._ He thought he could imagine an older, cleverer, and decidedly wrinklier version of Bumi than his brother was. Maybe he was happy when he wrote this. Maybe he was sad. Either way, he felt he burden lighten just a little. It could not truly leave him, but it helped to know that there was someone in the past that was encouraging him. He could feel that hope bud in his heart too.

-

It was not until much later in life that Tenzin knew what his father was missing. He finally understood the sadness that seemed to meet him whenever he had asked him about other airbenders. He had not known what any of it had meant until it was too late.

He began calling his father Avatar Aang instead of a more affectionate, personal title. A man such as him seemed so much more far-removed from the mortal world when Tenzin could separate himself from the kind of legacy he left behind. He was larger than life, a legend. He had accomplished so many things, and yet Tenzin had not.

Those thoughts ate at him and devoured him until he had forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of Avatar Aang the father. He who had tickled him and his siblings with random bursts of air, who had tossed fruit pies at disgruntled acolytes that he had deemed “too serious for their own good,” who had brought them on trips to ride elephant koi for no other reason than to have a family vacation.

Tenzin had finally understood the kind of loneliness that Aang must have felt throughout his life, the kind of loneliness that festered and ached until it settled in every limb of your body. He knew what it meant to be the last.

For a while after his father passed away, his family felt broken. His mother had returned to her childhood home in the Southern Water Tribe with Kya, too laden with memories and grief to stay long in Republic City. Bumi tried his best to distract himself and was caught in the myriad of military life with the United Forces more so than before. Tenzin himself focused on upholding Air Nomad tradition on Air Temple Island when there was no one else left that could.

He thought that after he and Lin Beifong separated shortly before his father’s death, he would never find a partner like that again. In truth, it was a blessing in disguise that Pema was there for him. He was drawn to her beauty and her courage, the way she held herself with poise. She was an acolyte that had studied under Avatar Aang, and that brought Tenzin closer to her.

She made him feel like he was not alone. At least, for a time.

It took him years more still to find out how his father had felt when he first airbended in front of the family. He had always wondered why Aang cried on that day, but he knew that when a two-year-old Jinora sneezed herself ten feet into the air, that he could not hold back his tears.

What he saw in her was a spark, a little star of joy and rekindling that brightened the night he had not known he was living in. And then there were two of them.

Then there were three, then four.

Four airbenders in the world. So many more than he had grown up with, but so much less than the hundreds Aang had grown up around. Tenzin could only hope to imagine what that had been like.

He siphoned through writings from the temples on his own, looking for ways to teach his children everything that he could find. He found out what Sozin had killed in a way that his father had never truly tried to tell him. Perhaps it was out of fear that Tenzin would be too afraid to hear it.

The Air Nomads were blessings to the other three nations. They were seen as good luck. In Kyoshi’s time, children would dream of seeing a sky bison pass them by. Fights would halt on the streets when a monk walked near, farmers would ask for prayers from them, little acolyte children were free to roam the Earth Kingdom stalls, the Water Tribe docks, the Fire Nation islands.

Sozin took that all away because of selfishness, because he wanted _more._ Instead what the man had received was far less appealing. The remaining nations rose to fight because of the sheer loss that he had caused. There was a void that could no longer be filled.

There were recipes in the writings that he could not replicate because many of the fruits mentioned had gone extinct. There were games that he would never be able to play because there were not enough airbenders to participate. It was devastating to read what could not be salvaged. Heartbreaking to see what his father did not mention because he himself may not have known. Aang had only been twelve after all.

Tenzin sighed, slumping in his seat at the dining table.

“Look alive, Uncle Bumi!” Meelo yelled out of nowhere.

His heart stopped when his older brother—his _nonbender_ older brother—airbended a sphere around the dish that was just thrown at him, and he did not know what to think.

Avatar Korra called. Airbenders everywhere were reported. Kids balancing on bridges meters high, teenagers all over the Earth Kingdom coming out of obscure towns and villages with bending abilities that made no sense. A girl named Rin Lee in a prominent Fire Nation noble house showing off her skills by accident to Fire Lord Izumi.

In Gaoling, in Omashu, in villages he had never heard of. _Airbenders._

Weeks later, Tenzin stepped off the airship, facing a crowd of new airbending recruits, people who had pledged themselves to the life of a true Air Nomad. His brother Bumi was beside himself, and Tenzin could not help but be overjoyed for him.

“Do you think dad would be proud?” Bumi had asked.

Tenzin only laughed and hugged him close, because it felt so good and so right that another one of Avatar Aang’s sons had gotten this gift. This blessing.

He spent his time reading through more scrolls in the Eastern Air Temple, finding replicated and preserved writings from Guru Laghima.

 _New growth cannot exist without first the destruction of the old,_ said one teaching. And Tenzin wondered what that meant for them.

He was the only master that could guide these people. He and Avatar Korra tried their best. Bumi was the one that picked up things the quickest, but Tenzin had a feeling it was because of their shared upbringing. His brother had a knack of agility since the beginning. Perhaps that was the sign none of them saw.

Tenzin and Korra took things in stride, believing for the most part that Harmonic Convergence caused a shift in the spiritual that had caused this incredible upheaval of all the things they knew.

Then, one day, young Rin Lee came up to him with a question on her stance. He corrected her and she fixed it right away. But before he left, she stopped him.

“Your aura is pulsing,” she whispered, flicking her braid from the side of her face. “You’re stressed. You need to rest, Master Tenzin.”

He stared. “My aura? You can see it?”

“Of course!” she exclaimed. “My family has been able to see auras since the beginning of the Hundred Year War…at least that’s what my grandma tells me. She said _her_ great-grandma or something was taught how to do it by the person that raised her.”

Tenzin really looked at her now. He saw the same wide gray colored eyes that his father had, the same rounded chin that he had in his youth that Tenzin had seen in statues. Realization came to him like a lightning strike. There were only ever Air Nomads that had been able to sense and see auras, and typically they were the ones spiritual enough to achieve the feat.

“I see,” Tenzin acknowledged with a smile, “that is indeed a special gift to have.”

He turned away to face the mountains that surrounded them. The fog swirled up from the valleys below. He could hear the chittering of the lemurs in the fields, the groans of the sky bison as they lifted themselves up for flight. Children flitted about, and his own joined them. A whole group was playing airball with Bumi at the lead, standing precariously on a wooden stake.

The Order of the White Lotus had been playing the long game, and he only wished his father could see it. All of them were descendants of those very Air Nomads that had been saved so long ago. Their airbending had been suppressed, hidden, forgotten. There were still few of them, yet here they were.

Tenzin looked to Bumi who airbended a breeze through his own locks of busy hair, to his children, to the new airbenders darting about the courtyards in a frenzy of tumbling steps and laughter. He lifted his hands, eyeing the blue arrow tattoos on the backs of them. Finally, he saw Korra as she assisted Jinora, Ikki, and Meelo in rounding up the sky bison from their midmorning turns.

He smiled to himself, tears flooding his eyes.

 _But he is here to see it,_ he thought. _In all of this, in all of us, he is here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone for reading this far! It's been crazy to get through this! I will be honest, this part was difficult to write for whatever reason. Hopefully, it turned out good enough!
> 
> You might notice that there are some nods to the Kyoshi novels in here. Very minimal, but I felt like it was an important add. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and please leave some love below! :)


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